I want to scream. Loudly. Out of frustration. Out of madness and sadness. And out of excitement. We’ve once again placed ourselves in an extremely challenging and emotional transition and, gosh darn it, I’m gonna blog about it!

So Atlas, our beloved Jeanneau 45 DS, is sold. The literal process of selling it was about as easy as it gets. We didn’t use a broker. We marketed it ourselves, we priced it aggressively for a quick sale and we had 3 offers within 5 days. The buyers, S&G, could not have been easier to deal with. We’re grateful to have been able to spend some time with them in both the Bahamas (for the survey and sea trial) and Florida for the hand over. We really enjoyed getting to know them and it’s fun to see the excitement in their eyes while they’re aboard Atlas.

The act of selling Atlas though has been heartbreaking and very difficult. Atlas has been the nexus of our family’s happiness over the last 7 years. No material possession has been more important to us, not even our house. It has fostered our family’s closeness and friendships, new and old. It proved to be a catalyst in realizing our dream to live aboard and go sail. It was, simply, a really happy and fun place to be. In Toronto I would arrive to Atlas on a Friday night and my stress would start melting away the minute I got aboard and was greeted by my family and that beautiful Toronto skyline. By the time I stepped off the boat late Sunday afternoon I felt like I had been away from work for a week or more. That was priceless.

There are so many other memories wrapped up in that boat and that’s all BEFORE we moved aboard the boat and started this amazing adventure. Our kids have grown up with this boat. Our family became a family on this boat. Bo started on this boat with us. And now, boom, it’s gone. I want to scream.

All of us are struggling with this. We’ve known it’s coming. We made the decision to do this. We think it’s for the better but, my god, it’s hard. We’re all having Big Feelings. It’s reminding me of just last year when we moved out of our house and I can’t help but see this through my kids eyes. First we took them out of the school they loved (sorta, Covid helped with that), then we moved out of the house that we all loved, away from a neighborhood we adored and friends we cherished. But at least we moved aboard a boat we knew so well, our second home. It was hard but we knew the boat. Now? Now we’re even getting rid of that. And one more thing…

We’re now getting rid of Bo too. My eyes, for the hundredth time, just welled up with tears as I wrote that sentence. Fuck this is awful. It’s madness and I want to scream. We drive to Toronto this morning to hand him over and I just don’t want to do it. And watching what it’s doing to all the members of the family makes it even harder.

Think about this: we moved away from a very happy place (our house and neighborhood) but moved on to a boat that we loved, the happiest place we knew as a family. But we’ve now sold that boat for a boat we’ve never seen in person. We’ve packed everything up once again. And now we’re literally getting rid of a member of our family that we love enormously. I’m telling you, this is a really hard time for us. I don’t want your sympathy. I know we’ve chosen all of this. I know we’re on an adventure of a lifetime, but let’s keep it real right now. This is a really awful transition.

I can’t believe we’re saying goodbye to Bo. This dog is just such a great dog I feel robbed that I’m not going to get his full life with him. I’m filled with the same emotions and dread as when we had to put down previous dogs. I know that’s crazy! He’s going to live with an amazing family and we’re certain he’s going to be happier than living on the boat. But we’re losing Bo. He’s going to be gone and that’s devastating. Add to it that we’ve sold the boat, we’re living out of bags, all sleeping together in the same room in my Dad’s basement, or in hotel rooms, and we’re struggling right now.

So off we go to Toronto this morning to do the deed. Are we going to stay with friends? No. Are we going to take this opportunity of free time to do a big tour and catch up and see friends and family? No. Why? Covid. FUCK! We’re not worried about catching covid, we’re all vaxed and boosted, we’re worried about catching covid because we have to have negative tests to get on a flight to New Zealand. If we test positive we have to sit around, waiting and testing, until all 4 of us are negative. Air New Zealand is almost completely booked for May now. We have a narrow window of time where we can get to New Zealand, moved aboard our new boat, prep and provision, learn the boat, get it to Opua and then set off on a 1200 mile sail to Fiji. If we miss that window we end up spending winter in New Zealand and I don’t even want to think about how to get those 2 giant crates I just shipped to Fiji…

So we’re NOT going to see friends when we go to Toronto. We’re staying in another fucking hotel. We’re driving up as a family of 5 and returning as a family of 4. I can’t tell you how guilty I feel as a parent right now. “I’m sorry, you’re sad that we sold Atlas? TOO BAD! Is it hard to give up the dog you love so much? GET OVER IT! Wait, you want to see your friends in Toronto as well? NOT A CHANCE!” I mean, what kind of monster does this to their kids? Guys, seriously, this is a really awful time and we’re struggling.

That said, I’m amazed by the resilience of children. They have kept their shit together and continue to play well. We, mostly, talk about our feelings and try to address them head on. At least Oliver and I do. Melissa and Elliott work through things a bit differently and that’s ok too. This last year has taught us that while these transitions are hard we’re capable of getting through them and the other side of it is pretty special. We’re moving to New Zealand! We bought an amazing new boat! We’re going to sail to Fiji! We’ve doubled down and plan to spend the next 3 to 5 years doing this! HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT?!

So we’re all aware of why all these terrible things are happening. It doesn’t make it much easier though. I’m 46 and on the adventure of a lifetime, but I keep choking up and crying. I’m tired of that too. I know that this shall soon pass and we’re on to great experiences. But I had to write this post to try to memorialize these feelings. We’re down right now. We know we’ll get through it. We’re not looking for sympathy. I think we’re just looking to get this over with as quickly as possible.

You’ll notice that I haven’t included any pics in this post. I might add some later. I just can’t bring myself to scroll through all of our pics right now, looking for pics of Bo or Atlas. I just can’t do it.

I’ll also write another post next week, this one with pics, detailing our sail from the Bahamas back to Florida, the miserable crossing of the Gulf Stream, and an update on the new boat and our plans for the next year.